


Copy Cats

by wordsarelifealways



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, upset Newt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5006902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsarelifealways/pseuds/wordsarelifealways
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kids have taken to copying the things they see, but Newt wasn't expecting them to copy his limp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Copy Cats

In hindsight, Newt thought he probably should have seen it coming. The kids copied almost everything they saw around them: the way Tommy ran, the serious expression Minho usually had on, they’d even started picking up some of the slang from the Glade which had been a hell of a shock to pretty much everyone.

But seeing the kids limping around pretending to be him made Newt’s blood run cold. It was unsettling. He had grown used to people not acknowledging his limp; it was just a minor part of him and it never really interfered with anything.

The kids had finally noticed it though, and several of them had really latched onto it. The older ones, the ones who had been walking confidently since going through the flat trans, would suddenly wobble and limp and run awkwardly declaring that they were being Newt. He was pretty sure that they wouldn’t do it if he told them not to, but whenever he tried the words dried up in his throat and he just stood there opening and closing his mouth like a damn fish.

It had been going on a few weeks now, and Newt had officially reached the point where he couldn’t watch it any more. He walked away from the wide open space, painfully aware of the small give in his leg while he did. Heat burned up his neck and across his face.

Was his limp really what people saw most when they looked at him? Did everyone else define him as the crippled one?

Without realising, his hand went to the back of his neck. It felt like years ago they’d woken up and found themselves labelled. _The Glue_. There was irony in there somewhere: being labelled as the one who held everything together when he himself was falling apart at the seams. Shame rose up Newt’s throat like bile until he felt as if he was going to choke on it. He lost his footing somewhere along the way as he tried to gulp down air, tried to think beyond the memory of waking up with a burning pain in his leg and the devastating knowledge that he was still alive, and when his sight came back into focus he found himself on all fours on the ground gasping for air.

“Newt?” He could hear Thomas’ voice, but it felt foggy and distant like he was listening from underwater. “Newt!” Vibrations shuddered through Newt’s hands and knees and when he turned his head he came face to face with Thomas. Seconds later he felt a hand smooth up and down his back and another rough calloused hand frame half his face.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, eyes wide.

“M’fine.” Newt sucked in another breath, the suffocating sensation of shame and embarrassment easing off.

“People who are fine generally don’t have panic attacks in the woods.” Thomas pointed out as he manhandled Newt into a sitting position against a tree. “What happened, man? I saw you watching the kids and then suddenly you were gone.” Thomas flopped back against a tree opposite Newt.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence and intense staring, Newt realised Thomas was going to wait him out until he spilled the beans.

“The kids copy a lot, you noticed that?” Newt asked tiredly, pushing a dirty hand through his hair.

“What? Yeah, I guess…what does that have to do with it?” Thomas frowned.

“You ever notice what they copy?”

“Not really?” Thomas’ eyebrows furrowed.

“They’ve been copying my limp, Tommy.” Newt sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as if he could rub the image away from where it had been burned into his memory.

“Your- oh.” Thomas swallowed, realisation flickering across his face.

“Yeah.” Newt rubbed his aching leg. “The leg I messed up trying to shucking kill myself. Bad enough that _I_ have to live with this every day of my life, because of _one_ choice I made. I don’t want to have to see it everywhere I look because the kids think it’s funny. I don’t-” The lump started rising up Newt’s throat again and he struggled to swallow around it.

“You don’t what?” Thomas’ hand found its way across the dirt to Newt’s, grasping his hand reassuringly.

“I don’t want that to be what people see first.” Newt shook his head, straw like ends of his hair scratching his eyes with the movement. “The crippled bit.” Newt shook his head again and struggled to get to his feet.

“You know what, it doesn’t matter.” He backtracked, gripping the trunk of the tree and hauling himself up. He was about to leave when he felt hot fingers thread through his own.

“You really think that’s what everyone sees?” Thomas asked disbelievingly as he pulled Newt back into him, wrapping his arms around Newt’s waist from behind and resting his chin against Newt’s shoulder.

He took Newt’s tense silence as a cue to go on.

“No one sees you as the crippled one. You lived in the Maze for years. You survived in there, _and_ in the Scorch, and you almost caught the _Flare_.” Thomas voice broke and he pressed a kiss to Newt’s neck, seeking reassurance from the firm thumping of Newt’s pulse under his lips. It had been a while now, but the thought of how close Newt had come to being past the point where the Right Arm could help him still made Thomas’ stomach bottom out.

“You’re tougher than anyone else out there. Except maybe Minho.” Thomas added as an afterthought, his lips still brushing against Newt’s pulse point. “The point is: no one here thinks you’re any less than the rest of us.” Thomas trailed kisses up Newt’s neck slowly. “You’re one of the toughest shanks I know, limp or no limp. Don’t sweat over this. The kids’ll be doing something else by next week.” Thomas murmured against Newt’s jaw.

“Thanks, Tommy.” Newt swallowed, relaxing against Thomas and turning his head just enough to catch Thomas’ lips in a kiss.

And for just a few moments, the ache in his leg faded.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at whoismisha.tumblr.com


End file.
